


someday i'll get the pride to call you

by aloeverava



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A Sprinkle of Everything tbh, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, AsaNoya - Freeform, Bisexual Sawamura Daichi, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Gay suga, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Semi-University AU, Weddings, background daisuga, canon-divergent, daisuga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloeverava/pseuds/aloeverava
Summary: Fall semester of his freshman year of college: Asahi Azumane goes on one (1) date. His name is Sugita Koji and he has platinum blond highlights.Spring semester of his junior year of college: Asahi Azumane has gone on three (3) dates. The last two have been with a girl who’s smile rivals the sun, but it never reaches her eyes, not the way that Noya’s did.The summer after junior year, Asahi goes on his fourth date. That is, if you call getting a guy who you barely know to be your date to your high school friend’s wedding because you just need to show up with someone.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 59





	someday i'll get the pride to call you

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the "alexa, play american teen" collab! it's a project in which i got to work with thirteen other amazing writers to put together a collection of songfics for each song on the "American Teen" album by Khalid, forming one albumfic. every fic is asanoya-centric and i'll link the masterlist once it's posted!
> 
> this fic is based on track #5, “saved.”

Seven days—five, if you only counted the days that they had school. Still, that was a hundred and twenty hours, seven thousand two hundred minutes, and almost half a million seconds.  _ Half a million seconds too long _ , Asahi thought.

Noya was suspended for a week, that’s what the principal had said—and for knocking over a stupid vase, of all things. Asahi knew that it wasn’t just that—it was his out-of-line behavior leading up to the event and the principal’s overall distaste for the boy in general, but still, it angered Asahi.

No, more like it  _ bothered  _ him, because Asahi didn’t get angry. He got upset, sure, but anger was never a part of his “gentle giant” nature. (Or, so Noya had dubbed it.) It was unfair in Asahi’s opinion, to say the least. Daichi and Suga could sense his unease, giving him space for the grueling five days.

Outside of practice, there had never been much interaction between Asahi and Noya to begin with. It was mostly during or before practice, when they all walked together to Sakanoshita Store for meat buns. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy their time together—no, as a matter of fact, he cherished every moment in Noya’s presence.

Daichi and Suga took notice of Asahi’s affections for the boy right away, the latter pointing it out first, of course.

* * *

“Oi,  _ Asahiii _ , you got your eyes on someone special?” Suga sang, dangerously within earshot of the libero in mention as the team left the club room. Luckily, he was discussing something animatedly with Hinata and Tanaka, paying his upperclassmen no mind.

The ace flushed a dark red, to which Suga’s shit-eating grin only widened and Daichi let the corners of his mouth quirk up in amusement.

“W-What do you mean?” He asked unconvincingly.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Daichi said, a poorly concealed laugh shaking his shoulders. Suga’s mirth was less concealed, loud and unapologetic. Asahi didn’t miss the way Daichi looked at Suga—the same way Asahi had looked at Noya for the last year. Still blushing deeply, he smiles.

“Y’know, I could ask you the same thing, Daichi.” He sends a knowing glance to his captain then speeds up, escaping the arm Suga has thrown around his shoulders.

As he catches up with the rest of his team, he can hear Suga berate Daichi.

“Who does he mean? Tell me! Tell me, Daichi! C’mon, I won’t tell, I promise…”

Asahi almost regrets his playful jab as he can practically feel the heat from Daichi’s glare on his back, but his worry dissipates when he catches up to Noya. He’s waving his hands around, saying something about that one  _ crazy  _ save he made today.

The ace isn’t focused on the dramatic retelling of his story, though. Rather, he is entranced by the smile it brings to the boy’s face, the one brighter than all the stars in the sky and the moon combined. It takes him a moment to realize that that smile has faded to form a question, a question directed at him.

“Oi, Asahi, whatcha think?”

He flushes at the sound of Noya’s voice.

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “About what?” He can see Tanaka’s knowing glance between the two of them, a mischievous glint in his eye. He shoots the second-year the best glare he can muster, a silent  _ “Don’t you dare.”  _ Tanaka holds his hands up in surrender, still smiling.

“About this week’s issue of Shonen Jump! I mean, did you  _ see  _ that one…”

Asahi can’t help it when the boy’s words fade to white noise once more, because the light in his eyes and the perfect parabola of his mouth steal the show once more.

_ Sorry, Noya,  _ he thinks.  _ I’m sure whatever you had to say was plenty interesting, but I can’t help but find looking at you more intriguing. _

He’s trapped in that reverie for a bit longer, just until they reach Sakanoshita. It’s Noya, of course, the one who holds his attention, who is the one to break it.

“Yo, Tanaka, why don’t I have a hot girlfriend yet?” Noya is leaning down a bit to admire his reflection in a puddle, the moonlight sending back a visage of a cheekily grinning boy. (Asahi swears his teeth do that little sparkling thing like they do in cartoons.)

“Dude, shut  _ up,  _ how could you say that when we have Kiyoko-san?” Noya only rolls his eyes in reply.

“Okay, sure but what’s that gotta do with having a hot girlfriend?” Tanaka chops him on the top of the head for that one, beginning to berate him about loyalty and how he was being a disgusting pig right now.

The rest of the team laughs or rolls their eyes at their antics, Asahi included.

“Hey, Noya, why don’t you find yourself a hot guy instead?” Tanaka asks, avoiding the wide-eyed look Asahi sends him immediately after.

“Nah, man, I don’t swing that way,” The libero laughs, though thankfully good-naturedly. “What, Ryu, you tryna get some of this?” He wiggles his butt at his friend, winking. Tanaka shoves him away, trying to make a disgusted face but laughing too hard.

Their joy is contagious; even Tsukishima is smirking a bit. But Asahi’s smile is bittersweet, tinted with the knowledge that Noya will never so much as return an ounce of his feelings.

Tanaka sends him an apologetic look and Suga says something, trying to change the topic while Daichi looks close to apologizing as well. Asahi smiles and waves them off. It was fine, he knew it wasn’t meant to be anyways.

He could let himself pretend at times that Noya might reciprocate his romantic intentions one day, but for tonight, he was planted on the ground, the reality of their incompatibility holding him in place.

* * *

**RYU {6:30 PM]**

Dude sorry abt that thing today

**YUU [6:31 PM]**

it’s all good lol

idk im just not sure

**RYU {6:31 PM]**

Abt asahi or the gay thing?

**YUU [6:33 PM]**

uhh idk

both

**RYU [6:33 PM]**

K cool

Roblox?

**YUU [6:33 PM]**

sure

* * *

One month. Noya was gone for one month.

And when he returned, Asahi was gone for good. Permanently.  _ Forever. Never coming ba— _

“Oi, Noya, don’t be such a downer, geez,” Tanaka says, slapping a hand across his shoulders. “It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

Noya’s face only contorts more in response. The look on his face must have been intense—more intense than usual, that is—because even Tanaka takes a step back.

“I’m not being a  _ downer,  _ I’m just angry,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “That stupid oaf really ran away like the fucking coward he is.”

“Woah, woah,” Ennoshita interjects, catching the volleyball he was passing between Narita and himself. “Noya, really? The guy just doesn’t want to play anymore, chill.”

The libero all but  _ growls  _ in reply. He whirls on Daichi, who he can guess has been watching their interaction from afar all this time.

“If Azumane-san doesn’t come back, I’m not coming back either,” he declares. It’s loud enough for the entire gym to hear; the smacking of balls halts for a moment. He turns on his heel and leaves, anger boiling at the pit of his stomach.

Really, who did Asahi think he was?

* * *

_ “But with this guy, I can spike any ball!” _

What was he doing?

Asahi stands in front of the sliding doors, hand hovering just over the handle. Something about the fiery-headed first-year’s words had compelled him here. Maybe it was how he pointed at the other first-year, how he saw himself and Noya just a bit in their picture of confidence. No, he thinks it was more than that—but regardless, he now stands in front of the familiar metal doors. Again, he asks himself:  _ What am I doing? _

All he had to do was pull. All he had to do was step inside, greet Daichi, and start passing drills. It wasn’t that hard, right?

Except that it was. To Asahi, it felt like trying to climb a mountain, or better yet, push a boulder up that mountain. And the fact of the matter was that he could—he just couldn’t face what was waiting for him up top. He pictures the iron wall that blocked out spike after spike of his last season. He pictures the ball hitting the floor, Noya diving for the ball—

Noya.

Now he imagines Noya’s wild hair and his eyes that hold the brilliance of the sun in them. He pictures his loud voice and even louder smile, his self-assured nature and contagious joy that followed him everywhere.

Asahi wants to return to that. He wants to return to all of those things and more.

But he can’t.

He turns to leave. This was a mistake in the first place, he shouldn’t have come here. What a waste of—

_ “Nice kill!” _

Asahi freezes in place. The compliment is not aimed at him, but he feels the rush of satisfaction that it brings nonetheless. Even muffled through the gym doors and underneath the sound of volleyballs hitting arms and hardwood, Noya’s voice cuts through them all.

The ace turns back around.

“Oi, ‘bout time, Asahi!”

* * *

And after that, things went well. Fine.  _ Good,  _ even. Oh, who was he kidding? Things were great. There was a new coach, and though it was hard getting back into the rhythm of practice and volleyball and bonding with the new first-years, everything eventually settled into place.

Though one thing remained a problem—his stupid,  _ stupid  _ crush on Noya.

“Asahi, don’t mind, don’t mind!” Suga called from the bench. The ace sighs in discontent as the ball hits the net, far from where he was aiming.

He’d been distracted again, his thoughts jumbled as his skin burned from the sight of Noya on the other side of the net—he’d been watching Asahi with that intense game-focus stare of his, the one Asahi had thought he’d grown used to by now. But then the libero had done that damn thing with his tongue, which sent Asahi’s serve awry.

“Oi, focus!” Coach Ukai yells. Asahi shouts a half-minded apology and nods, more upset with himself than anything. “Give Asahi the ball,” Ukai adds. Kageyama nods, tossing the volleyball to him. Asahi nods his thanks.

“C’mon, you got this one!” And similar cheers echo from around the gym.

He closes his eyes, counts to three. He takes a running start, eyes trained on the side of the court farthest from Noya.

Service ace.

* * *

“A-sa-hi.” Suga and Daichi are looking at him,  _ have been  _ looking at him, from across their desks, which are pushed together for lunch.

That uneasy feeling of what’s to come settles in Asahi’s stomach. The grins on their faces—that’s right, faces, plural—couldn't mean anything good. It was one thing when Suga was plotting, but a whole other ordeal with Daichi was on board with his antics.

“Oh no,” Asahi says, a knee-jerk reaction to this situation. “What are you two thinking now?”

“You tell us, Azumane-san,” Daichi muses. The ace automatically goes beet red.  _ Really?  _ He thinks to himself.  _ That’s all it takes? One honorific? _

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Asahi mutters. He focuses back onto his bento, scooping up the last few grains of rice with his chopsticks even though he’s been full since the half-way bell rang.

“So, when are you gonna ask him out?” Suga asks, leaning forward.

“He’s not gay.”

“Pfft, not gay my  _ ass, _ ” Daichi scoffs. “I have that—shit, what’s it called? Gaydar?”

Asahi doesn’t need to look up to know that Suga is rolling his eyes. “Oh, baby, look at your little bi self. I’m so proud, but you’ll have to let me handle this one.” The ace almost cringes at the pet name. Don’t get him wrong, he was as happy as can be for the new couple—they’d been pining for  _ ages  _ and it was about fucking time—but their happiness couldn’t help but remind Asahi of his own romantic dilemma.

“I was just trying to help,” The captain says lowly, but doesn’t object otherwise.

“ _ Anyways,  _ Asahi, that was sooo long ago,” Suga says. He means the incident at Sakanoshita Store, the one where Noya had declared, very loudly, that he was as straight as a fucking ruler.

“It was four months ago,” Asahi deadpans.

“Detail, schmetails,” The light-haired boy smiles, waving a hand in the air. Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What Suga means is that you’re really fucking blind if you don’t see the way he looks at you, Asahi.”

He nearly drops his chopsticks.

“Huh?”

* * *

It’s the first day of training camp and somehow, Noya & Co. are still bouncing off the walls, even after dozens of flying dive drills.

“Alright!” Suga claps his hands together, getting everyone’s attention. Well, so much for the calm third-years.

“Suga—” Daichi starts warningly, but the vice-captain pays him no mind.

“Gather round, kids, we’re gonna play a little game!” Daichi and Asahi look at each other, equal amounts of “kill me now” in their stares. “Oi, don’t look so down, you old men! C’mon, c’mon!”

And so the team ends up sitting around an empty ramune bottle (courtesy of Noya) with varying degrees of unease and/or excitement on each of their faces.

The rules are simple—you spin and kiss someone or you strip. The first few turns pass rather uneventfully—Suga kisses Daichi, Yamaguchi loses his socks, and Hinata loses his shirt. (“No way am I kissing Stingyshima!”)

As the night progresses, blackmail pictures of odd couples are taken, chants of “take it off!” are hollered a bit too loudly, and Asahi ends up in his boxers, because he really didn’t want to make Ennoshita or Narita or Kinoshita or Yamaguchi or Kageyama uncomfortable. Though, he does kiss Suga—the latter’s doing, of course.

Despite the embarrassment, Asahi can only pray for one thing—please, please,  _ please,  _ don’t let him end up with Noya.

He ends up with Noya.

(With the way Suga and Tanaka are  _ cackling,  _ he swears they must have rigged the bottle.)

Asahi stutters for an excuse, forming a hilarious picture—a nearly two meter tall bearded man clad in just his boxers, flushed red from his cheeks down to the beginning of his collarbone, being pushed towards a laughing Noya.

“No, wait, Nishinoya-kun, I’m sorry— mmph!”

Asahi’s mind goes blank. He thinks he’s short-circuiting.

He melts into the kiss, one hand supporting his weight on the floor whilst the other goes to the other’s hair, cradling his head instinctively.

It was everything and more than he’d imagine—not that he’d imagined this—who was he kidding? Of course he had.

When they pull away, he stares Noya, eyes wide. (Later, he constantly kicks himself about how stupid he must have looked, like a floundering fish.)

The libero laughs, the sound like bells to his ears.

“Geez, you can just call me Noya, y’know,” he winks. God, the audacity of this boy. “I would think we’d be that close, anyways. You’re one heck of a kisser,  _ Azumane-san. _ ”

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

Thankfully, Daichi yanks him back by the collar and loudly announces his turn before he can be teased about it.

* * *

Tanaka pulls Noya aside, and the libero is already shaking his head before his friend can open his mouth.

Face flushing, he huffs, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But  _ bro, _ ” Tanaka protests.

“But  _ what _ ?” Noya all but spits.  _ Where is this anger coming from? _ Tanaka must think the same thing, so he holds up his hands, defensive and concerned.

“Sorry, I was just playing. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” he trails off, raking a hand over his face. “I’m so  _ tired,  _ Ryu. Like, he’s so— ARGH!”

Tanaka smirks, not bothering to shield his amusement. “Yes, spoken like a true intellectual. But dude, if he’s so—” Tanaka makes air quotes with his fingers. “ _ ‘Argh _ ,’ why don’t you just ask him out already? Isn’t it obvious that he’s just as whipped—”

“ _ I can’t be gay, Ryu! _ ”

“I—Hold on, I thought we had this conversation already—”

“Yes, yes we did!  _ We  _ did! You and I, not me and my parents,” Noya says in a rush. Tanaka’s eyes widen.

“Shit, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay. Can we just—just let it go, okay?”

Tanaka looks at his friend with concern, but doesn’t push the issue. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Asahi is shaken awake with an urgent whispering of his name. He dismisses the person at first, muttering a “sorry” for snoring too loudly again. But the hand against his shoulder persists, so Asahi begrudgingly cracks open his eyes.

He’s met with two large brown eyes that practically glow in the dark. Hair that is usually gelled skywards falls over them slightly, startling but not unpleasant to look at for Asahi.

“Nishinoya-kun?”

“Just Noya, you uptight oaf. C’mon, let’s go before the others wake up,” he whispers urgently in reply.

“Wait, huh?” Asahi asks, but his body is obeying Noya’s request already.

The shorter doesn’t reply, just takes his hand and all but drags him ahead, narrowly avoiding the stray limbs of their teammates. Asahi hisses in a breath when his foot misses Tanaka’s sprawled arm by just a few centimeters.

Noya doesn’t let go of Asahi’s hand even once it is clear where they’re going; Asahi doesn’t complain.

The duo steps out onto the balcony at the end of the hallway, squinting into the sunrise.

Neither of them says anything, hands still connected and breath stolen by the sight in front of them.

From their third-floor vantage point, they can see the tops of the forest trees, dark green leaves casting shadows on the clearing several hundred meters from their building. The sun has risen just enough to cast light over that patch of clearing, which—upon further examination—is not a clearing at all. It’s more of a meadow, with overgrown grasses and vibrant patches of flowers.

“You see that, Asahi?” Noya asks, breaking the silence.

“...Yeah,” Asahi says, hoping his voice doesn’t shake too much on the one syllable. His heart is still racing from the sensation of the fingers woven between his; he hopes his palm isn’t too sweaty. “What about it?” He adds once Noya continues to gaze out in silence. It’s uncanny, Asahi thinks—seeing Noya so… calm.

“It’s perfect,” Noya whispers.

“For what?”

“Stop looking at me,” is what Noya says rather than answering his question. Despite the question burning on his tongue, Asahi listens, turning his gaze back to the meadow.

Something inside of him shifts, something that makes him aware of just the sight before him and the rising sun and Noya’s hand in his. His teammates are not going to wake up and look for them anytime soon, he does not have morning laps to run, and he is not concerned about getting to the dining hall before all of the miso soup is gone.

It  _ is  _ perfect, Asahi thinks. And before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I want to take you there.”

Noya looks at him, smiling as if what Asahi just said was perfectly normal. “Yeah, me too.” He shifts his body to look up at the taller boy, the smile growing to swallow up the lower half of his face. Asahi squirms under his gaze.

“...Noya?”

The libero’s eyes suddenly dim, as if realizing that he is not alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing onto the front of Asahi’s shirt. He is pulling down and Asahi is following, his expression that of a spooked animal but not a single protest falling from his mouth.

_ This isn’t really happening, is it? Am I still dreaming? What’s— _

They form a beautiful silhouette as their lips meet and their hands find each other’s bodies—Noya’s in the tangle of Asahi’s hair; Asahi’s large hands splaying over Noya’s back almost completely. The sun continues to rise, its blinding golden rays now cast over their faces. They do not flinch away; their eyes are closed, immersed in the sensation of one another.

The kiss is different from the chaste and shallow one last night. It pulls on every string of Asahi’s heart and every thought of Noya in his bones. It’s slower, more careful, as if they are both taking their time. And they do take their time, holding one another as if it is the one thing keeping them both alive.

When they pull away, Asahi’s head is dizzy and he doesn’t know if it’s from Noya’s presence or the lack of oxygen.

“Wow,” Noya says.

“Wow,” the other echoes. They both break into smiles, grinning stupidly at one another.

There’s a beat of comfortable silence.

“I’ve always wanted to draw you,” Noya says, still beaming as if he hadn’t said something so out-of-the-blue.

“Sorry, what?” is all Asahi can manage.

“I sort of like drawing and—and I’ve always wanted to draw you.”

Asahi flushes redder than the rising sun. “O-Oh. That’s really nice of you to say,” he mumbles, for lack of a better way to explain how he is absolutely  _ imploding  _ on the inside.

“Yeah,” Noya only says quietly, leaning up to capture his lips once more; Asahi doesn’t protest, kissing back with slightly more urgency.

A shout of, “Have you guys seen Asahi and Nishinoya?” opens their eyes and rips them apart. Asahi would find it in himself to be more alarmed if his mind weren’t so hazy right now.

“Count to a hundred then come in, yeah? Say you were in the bathroom.” Noya pats his shoulder, as if they’d been out here just talking.

“Wait, Noya, what—”

The sliding door is already shutting behind him.

* * *

So things were going well. Yeah, you could say that. Volleyball was looking good, Noya was looking good (as always) and maybe—just  _ maybe— _ Asahi’s chances with Noya were looking good as well.

Training camp keeps them busy and breathing too hard to talk to each other—not that Asahi would work up the guts to talk to Noya if he tried—so they don’t get to talk in private like Asahi wants. Noya, on the other hand, is acting like everything is completely normal.

So Asahi waits, typing up text message after text message to Noya over the weekend and deleting each one. Noy was probably waiting for the right time, right?

He was wrong.

Noya comes in the next Monday, loudly boasting about his new girlfriend. The team meets her and Asahi hates that she’s so  _ nice.  _ He wants to hate Noya’s girlfriend with every cell in his body, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, right?

But he can’t bring himself to. She’s too nice, and oddly enough, seems just like Asahi in the sense that she jumps at every sound and squirms slightly under Noya’s arm around her shoulders.

Somehow though, Asahi can tell that she loves his affection all the same. Maybe it was the look in her eyes—because that look was the same one that Asahi got when Noya slapped him on the back or high-fived him with way too much force.

Noya’s girlfriend was the polar opposite of Asahi in terms of physical features, however. For one, she was short. Her hair was a soft strawberry blond and she wore it down, where it stopped just above her shoulders. It was slightly curly yet well-managed in a way that she could wear it loose whilst not looking unruly. In every aspect, she was the antithesis of Asahi’s appearance.

For the following weeks, Asahi learns to get along with the girl, as she frequents their practices, willingly coming or not. He can tell that Noya drags her along to half of them, but he can also tell she doesn’t really mind, not when it makes Noya happy.

So Asahi doesn’t really mind her either. His heart still burns for an explanation to that morning during the training camp, but his shy nature keeps him from demanding the answer he wants. She made Noya happy, after all, right?

* * *

Noya would never have thought he’d find himself in this situation.

“One, two, three thousand yen… All good,” she smiles.

Noya bows deeply, embarrassed in spite of himself but grateful nonetheless. “Thank you so much, Miyashita-chan,” he mumbles.

“It’s no problem, Noya-kun!” She smiles, waving her hands in front of her in a flurry. “Really, really!”

Noya straightens up, still fighting the flush on his face. “Just until the end of this month,” he says, more to assure himself than Miyashita.

“Yep,” she smiles. “Have a good night!”

Noya nods, then glances around wildly to make sure no one saw his shameful exchange. His first girlfriend being a fake one?  _ Embarrassing. _

God, he was  _ not  _ looking forward to telling Ryu.

* * *

“Azumane-san.” He nearly jumps out of his skin, whirling on the first-year who stands nearly at his height.

“Tsukishima! A-Ah, can I help you?” The boy raises an eyebrow at him, lenses glinting in the reflection of the gym lights. They stand in the doorway of the gym, Asahi sitting on the steps just moments ago and now risen to talk to the first-year.

“You should be asking yourself that,” Tsukishima replies coolly.

“Huh.”

The blond rolls his eyes, sighing. “Would you get over yourself and just tell Nishi—”

“Ah, Tsukki, there you are! Sorry, he’s probably dehydrated, don’t listen to anything he’s saying,” Yamaguchi rambles, dragging the taller boy away by the elbow. Tsukishima doesn’t protest, but he does send a look towards Asahi. “Sorry again, Azumane-san!”

Asahi would have laughed at the role reversal if he weren’t so befuddled.

Was his pathetic pining really that obvious? He asked himself. He thought he had gotten his stares and stuttering down to a minimum, or at least the normal amount for his typical behavior.

Maybe he was, but at least it didn’t seem like Noya had taken notice.

He looks across the gym to where the libero is loudly arguing with Kageyama about who’s turn it is to mop the floors.

_ Yeah,  _ he thinks.  _ He won’t find out anytime soon, anyways. _

* * *

Noya ends up becoming closer than he anticipated with Miyashita after one exasperated rant about his stupid feelings for Asahi after a study session. She’s more than nice about it, sitting there and listening to his problems when they should be doing geometry.

When she offers to meet his parents—just to throw off their suspicions, that is—he accepts. And when she offers to keep up their arrangement for the rest of the year, free of charge, he accepts that as well.

Maybe, if they kept this up for long enough, it would work.

* * *

The winter snow melts into spring showers, meaning more practice as Nationals steadily approaches—which means more practice not just for Asahi’s serve, but also for pushing aside those pesky feelings of his. If only there was a tournament for that, Asahi thinks offhandedly.

Nationals is gone in the blink of an eye and suddenly he’s graduating along with Daichi, Suga, and Kiyoko. There are tearful goodbyes and promises to keep in touch; Asahi crosses his fingers in his pocket when Noya makes him swear to call at least once a week.

He stays in touch with Daichi and Suga, congratulates them on their engagement—and quite soon after, marriage— and eventually moves out of their shared flat both in respect for their privacy and because Asahi feels that he really needs to start adulting at some point. (Daichi and Suga insist that he stays, but Asahi refuses.)

He gets a few internships, nothing sticking until he manages to land a position at his local cafe.

* * *

Noya graduates with decent marks and a pretty girlfriend, the most important part of the word being “girl.” His parents are pleased and he breaks off his arrangement with Miyashita halfway into summer break, making up some phony excuse about falling out of love. (Ironic, because the real reason was that he was still  _ in love,  _ just with the wrong person.)

Miyashita and him keep in touch though they go to different universities, and she even comes to stay at his place when her parents disown her for having a girlfriend.

Noya is still very, very into boys; it is a problem.

And Miyashita is still very, very into girls, which is also a problem.

But they are both still close friends, almost as close as he is with Ryu, even after several years apart at different universities.

So they make a different sort of arrangement, one that saves them both.

* * *

It’s been almost four years now. Asahi should’ve known the day would come.

“Asahi—”

“I know,” he grumbles, head in his hands. He leans forward, elbows set onto his knees as he raked his fingers through the loose hair.

“Is there anything we can do?” Daichi asks, concern (and maybe a bit of pity) for his friend leaking through his words.

“Unless you can magically make my stupid feelings for some kid we went to high school with dissapear, then no.” He winces at his own harsh wording. Noya was more than just  _ some kid  _ and he knew it, but he needs to direct his anger somewhere,  _ anywhere. _

_ “Asahi-san, I could never see you as an angry person! You’re too, like, what’s the word? Gentle, yeah!” _

He is not angry at the two third-years sitting on either side of him, not even at the girl whose name is scrawled in fancy cursive atop the wedding invitation.

No, he’s angry at Noya.

Maybe it’s irrational—scratch that, it  _ is  _ irrational, but he can’t help it. He thinks that maybe this anger is very, very, late, but better late than never, right? No, that saying obviously doesn’t apply here. Asahi sighs.

Suga rubs his back; Asahi can feel the metal of his wedding ring against his back.

“We don’t have to go,” Daichi offers.

“No, no, that’s rude,” Asahi replies immediately. The former volleyball captain nods; it wasn’t like he was sincere about his idea anyways. They’d never miss Noya’s wedding, best friend in love with the groom or not.

_ Ding. Ding, ding. _

The three of their phones go off consecutively, just seconds apart. They each check their texts—

_ SAVE THE DATE! JOIN US IN THE CELEBRATION OF NISHINOYA YUU AND… _

Asahi doesn’t even bother opening the notification—the banner is enough to rub salt on the wound. He half wishes he’d deleted Noya’s number when they had fallen out of contact.

Why  _ had  _ he not deleted his contact? Asahi remembers countless nights when he’d laid in bed, phone held above his face, finger hovering over the call button.

Maybe he’d hoped that one day, just maybe, that he’d get the pride to call him, to say all the things he’d kept bottled up since the first day he laid eyes on him.

But in the end, he’d put it down to a stupid high school crush, one that he should be over by now. One day, he’d be over him. One day.

* * *

When Miyashita asks where they want the wedding to be, he immediately thinks back to the sunrise that day of training camp, the meadow of flowers in the middle of the forest.  He also pictures Asahi’s body against his, Asahi’s lips, in particular.

Miyashita’s eyes light up when he takes her to their proposed venue, but not the way Asahi’s did.

“Noya, this is beauti—”

“Wait,” He interrupts, grabbing onto her wrist as she’s about to step into the clearing. It felt… wrong—being here, that is.

_ “I want to take you there.” _

He was supposed to come here with Asahi first. He was never supposed to be here with anyone else in the first place, really.

“Can I just—” Noya doesn’t know what to say, but fortunately Miyashita seems to understand, smiling at him with something understanding in her eyes.

He drops her hand, stepping into the tall grass. The overgrowth tickles his fingertips; he thinks about how it would barely reach Asahi’s knees. Noya turns back to his fiancee.

“Can we get this all cleared out?” His voice is thick with more emotion than he means it to be.

“You mean the flowers? But they’re—” She stops, seeing the look on Noya’s face. “Yeah, of course. My dad knows a guy, I can—I’ll figure something out.

“Thank you,” Noya whispers. It burns in his throat.

* * *

Fall semester of his freshman year of college: Asahi Azumane goes on one (1) date. His name is  Sugita Koji  and he has platinum blond highlights.

Spring semester of his junior year of college: Asahi Azumane has gone on three (3) dates. The last two have been with a girl who’s smile rivals the sun, but it never reaches her eyes, not the way that Noya’s did.

The summer after junior year, Asahi goes on his fourth date. That is, if you call getting a guy who you barely know to be your date to your high school friend’s wedding because you just need to show up with  _ someone.  _

“Thanks for, uh, doing this,” Asahi says, putting the car in park.

“Geez, chill out, Asahi. It’s not like I’m not getting anything out of this either. I love weddings!” Yoshiro smiles, sliding a hand around his back, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Something about the way he says Asahi’s given name makes him just slightly uneasy. Yoshira had always been friendly, so Asahi had written off the closeness as the man’s genial nature. Maybe it was just Asahi’s fault for being so uptight.

He forces a smile onto his face, hoping it looks genuine. Yoshiro smiles back reflecting not-there enthusiasm tenfold. Still not relaxing into the man’s hand around his shoulder, though, he stiffly opens the car door.

“Cute place, huh?” His date asks, looking up at the flickering LED sign.

“This is just where all the groomsmen are meeting,” Asahi says, slightly defensive. He looks up at the big red letters—Ukai had invested in a new sign some time in the last year, and apparently he wouldn’t stop going on about it to the current team. (At least, that was what Hinata said in the group chat.) And now here it was, the pride and joy of Sakanoshita Store—a sign in need of maintenance that looked close to falling off the front of the store.

It was… cozy, he supposed. Still, something about him setting eyes on and making judgemental remarks about a place so dear to his heart made him a little bitter. Though it wasn’t like it was his fault—Asahi hadn’t bothered to tell him about his high school volleyball career, at least not in very much detail. Because volleyball reminded him of one person: Noya.

“Asahi?” The former ace snaps out of his reverie, blinking at his date. Ah, he’d been staring.

“Sorry,” he blushes.

“I know I’m pretty to look at, but c’mon,” he teases, looping his arm into Asahi’s.

He hopes he misses the way he recoils from his touch for a split second.

* * *

They’ve managed to scrape together enough money for the wedding, between their parents’ donations and their savings from various part-time cafe jobs and the occasional tutoring session, the latter only applicable to Miyashita, of course.

And now they stand in the middle of a barren expanse in the middle of the forest, rented pick-up parked at the mouth of the clearing and the couple dressed similarly in shorts and tank tops.

“God, it is hot as  _ balls  _ out here,” Noya groans, wiping an arm across his head. “There’ll be, like, fans, right?”

His fiancee rolls her eyes. “Gross, and yes, there will. Though I’m not sure when, exactly,” she sighs, checking the time on her phone.

“Didn’t the guys say two?”

“Yeah, but it’s already half past and they haven’t replied to my text,” she says, biting her lip.

“Ugh, are you serious? Then we should just wait in the car,” Noya moans.

“Oh, shut up,” Miyashita says, walking away from him.

“Hey, where are you—!” Noya exclaims, but stops when he sees the spot Miyashita has her eyes on.

A patch of flowers, about the size of their car, rests at the edge of the mowed grass.  _ Weird,  _ Noya thinks, following after her.  _ Didn’t Miyashita say to clear out everything? _

He jogs to catch up to her, curiosity moving his legs despite the sweltering heat. She’s kneeling in front of the patch, a plastic grocery bag materializing from her pocket.

“What’s that for?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to decorate the altar?” Miyashita asks, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“No I—”

“Ugh, shut up with your masculinity complex for a second, would you? I saw the sketches on your desk,” she rolls her eyes skyward; she tended to do that a lot with Noya around.

His cheeks burn, but he thinks back to the night he had sat up in bed after yet another dream about Asahi, scrambling for a piece of paper and a pencil, needing to transcribe the fantasy in his head onto paper before it escaped him. He hadn’t thought twice of it, shoving the drawing aside before crawling back into bed.

He looks at the flowers in front of him—there are more than he initially thought, tulips and gardenias and carnations blooming in the bushes. There’s even a few roses—rare in this kind of weather, but in full, ruddy bloom before his eyes.

He thinks about how Asahi would have loved this.

He thinks about how he will see Asahi tonight, how he will see the man who landed him in this phony wedding arrangement in the first place tonight.

He thinks about how it will not be Asahi standing up there on the altar with him.

Noya holds out his hand. “Hand me the bag, Miyashita.”

* * *

The Karasuno volleyball team boys are as rambunctious as ever; it proves to be a dangerously chaotic idea to put them all into one car.

It’s good to see everyone again, don’t get Asahi wrong. But he doesn’t know if the teasing about his “hot date” is quite how he envisioned his reunion with his volleyball friends to be like. There’s a slight awkwardness at first with how Asahi’s date is the odd man out, but he seems to get along just fine with the others, boisterous nature and all.

_ They haven’t changed a bit,  _ Asahi fondly thinks as Tanaka holds bunny ears over Ennoshita’s head as they all lean in for a group selfie.

Suga drives the SUV with Daichi in the passenger seat while Tanaka, Ennoshita, and Narita are squished into the middle row, and Asahi and his date are left in the back row. (Tanaka nudges him in the side as they clamber into the car, winking at him. “Behave yourselves back there, ey?”)

The drive to the venue isn’t very long, but it seems like it stretches for both an eternity and a few seconds at the same time with the way Suga drives. (“Don’t say I didn’t warn you guys,” Daichi had grumbled when Suga hopped into the driver’s seat.) It isn’t very far, but the drive is drawn out by the unpaved road and unfamiliar surroundings. If anyone but Suga were driving, they’d probably have been lost by now.

The ground turns to loose gravel as they turn off the main road, winding through a rugged path towards what seems like uncleared forest. The incline is steep and the path is narrow; Suga switches gears on the car. The group’s chatter dies down to stunned silence as they pull into the driveway—or the equivalent of one, at least.

A wooden cabin, alight with lanterns and fairy lights strung around the nearest trees, sits cozy in the clearing that the gravel road ends at.

“How did they find this place?” Narita murmurs, voicing all of their thoughts as they clamber out of the car.

Asahi accepts the help from him as he steps down from the car, even though he doesn’t need it. He looks around, something about his surroundings vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on the sensation it draws in his chest.

As they near the venue, they can see an altar and rows of folding chairs set up behind the cabin. Something about the beauty of the scene around him suddenly twists in Asahi’s gut at the sight of the altar.

It’s a light brown with flowers intertwined amongst the weaving, three bare bulbs hanging from the middle. The soft glow of the lights is the only one outside, save for the candles posted intermittently between the rows.

It’s… _ perfect _ . If it were his wedding, Asahi would be the happiest man alive. He imagined sliding a ring onto Noya’s—

“Yeah, it sure is.”

“W-what?” Asahi splutters, looking at Yoshiro, who is suddenly beside him with his fingers interlaced in his.

“Perfect,” he grins. When he turns to look at Asahi, the soft amber light reflects in his eyes. (He thinks about how they would be reflected back tenfold in Noya’s.)

“Oh. I said that out loud, huh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. It gives him an excuse to free his hand from the confines of the other’s. (Noya’s hands were smaller than his.)

“Yeah, they really did a number on this place, huh? A little… much, though, don’t you think?”  _ Didn’t you just agree with me? _

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“It’s cute, though, I mean...” His words fade to background noise as Asahi’s mind wanders.

He stares at the man beside him, the man he brought to a wedding for someone who did not return his feelings, someone that he should be over by now, someone who was marrying a girl who wasn’t Asahi. His eyes are open but unseeing, ears hearing but not listening. He watches the man’s lips move as he forms words, words that Asahi doesn’t hear.

Because he can only compare him to Noya.

Noya, this, Noya that, they were at Noya’s  _ fucking wedding  _ for God’s sake.

“I have to go,” Asahi blurts. He doesn’t wait for a reply from Yoshiro, all but sprinting away from him. He has to get away, he has to go  _ somewhere  _ other than here.

Anywhere.

Anywhere, please, just get him out of—

“Asahi!” He freezes.

Okay, not anywhere. Anywhere but  _ here. _

“Oi, Asahi!” The voice calls out again, and this time there is no mistaking it no matter how much Asahi wants to deny that it’s him.

He turns, hoping he doesn’t look like he was just trying to escape.

“Where ya running off to, huh?” So much for the not escaping part. And Asahi couldn’t escape if he wanted to, because now he is held captive—bolted down in place by the way Nishinoya’s smile is still the same as it was all those years ago, the way he looks like he’s just teasing him as if they’re walking home from practice, the way he looks so  _ good _ in that suit.

“Asahi?” Noya asks, laughing as he waves a hand in front of his face.

“Noya,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”  _ Really, Asahi? “Hi?” _

“Hi,” the man replies, smiling gently as he sticks his hands into his pockets. “Don’t tell me you were getting just cold feet now, Asahi,” he jokes.

The former ace smiles at his banter, his lips feeling like the skin on them is cracking apart as he does so. Funny, but cruel. Oh, how the universe was so, so cruel.

He forces a laugh. “I would never! Just needed some air,” he says nonchalantly, as if they’re not outdoors.

Noya, surprisingly, doesn’t tease him for it, his expression sobering suddenly. “Yeah, I get what you mean. It gets kinda… stuffy in there. With like, all the people, y’know?” Asahi nods, opening his mouth to reply, but Noya keeps going “Everyone wants to us and take pictures with us and congratulate us and I’m supposed to just, like—I mean, what am I supposed to say?! That I’m—” He stops, hands mid-gesture and eyes wide, as if shocked by his own outburst.

Asahi stares back at him, mouth slightly open in surprise.

“Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he rubs the back of his neck, scuffing a shiny dress shoe against the hard-packed dirt.

Was it just him, or did Asahi catch a glimpse of that all too familiar  _ sadness  _ in his eyes? No, not quite that, but it was still melancholic in a sense.

Dissatisfaction, that was it.

“Anyways, have you seen the altar?” He beams, the signature grin settling back onto his features easily.  Something about it doesn’t sit right with Asahi, though—

Asahi decides that he must have imagined it; “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he replies.

“Thanks,” the groom practically beams. The twisting in Asahi’s stomach is slightly relieved when the radiance in Noya’s eyes returns. “I spent a lot of time on that thing, I hoped  _ someone  _ would think so.”

“Didn’t know you were the artistic type,” Asahi  lies smiles. He supposes that’s what they’re doing right now—pretending, right? Pretending that one morning never happened?

Noya’s shoulders sag minutely. “Yeah, guess you didn’t.”

A beat.

“So how—”

“Are you—”

They chuckle slightly at each other, the tension between them dissolving just a fraction.

“You first,” Noya obliges.

“Ah, I was just going to ask—”

“Asahi, there you are!” (He hopes Noya doesn’t see the way he cringes at the sound of Yoshiro’s voice.)

Glancing between the two of them, Asahi stutters, “Oh, uh, this is—”

“Maki Yoshiro! Hi! So good to meet you, and congrats! I’ve heard lots about you from Asahi!”

Surprisingly, Noya does not return his multiple-exclamation mark level of enthusiasm. “Uh, yeah, you too. The uh—it’s nice to meet you. Haven’t really heard much about you, though,” Noya grins half-heartedly.

“Agh, ‘course you haven’t!” Yoshira grins, looping his arm through Asahi’s. “We’ve only been dating for a few weeks,” he explains. (Asahi holds back a “we’re dating?”)

“Ah,” is all the groom says.

“Well, I’m glad that you two have met,” Asahi supplements, trying to dissolve the tension in the air. Yoshira may be blind to it—or just not care—but Asahi knows both himself and Noya are feeling it.

“Anyways, you two enjoy the party,” Noya says, turning to leave. Asahi almost follows after him, but Yoshiro’s excited goodbye and tug on his elbow stops him.

What would he do if he followed after him, anyway? Confess? Ruin a perfectly good wedding, a perfectly happy couple, a perfectly happy… whatever it was he had with Yoshiro?

His date is already meters ahead, practically jumping in the air as he beckons Asahi to catch up.

_Yeah,_ Asahi decides. _It’s about time you let go, Asahi._

* * *

Noya is in a bad mood when he gets back to his bride, a barely concealed stormy expression on his face as he makes his way through the throngs of people, smiling and waving, smiling and waving.

It’s a miracle that he doesn’t implode before he reaches the backroom.

“What’s wrong.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. Miyashita is looking at him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. It was funny how in-your-face she was with Noya, because she was the epitome of the word “shy” around most other people.

“Nothing, I just—” He stops cold at the sight of Miyashita’s expression. “He’s here. I—I saw him.”

Her expression immediately softens and she takes a seat next to him, laying a hand on his forearm comfortingly.

“That must be… horrible. I’m sorry, Noya. Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Noya says through his hands, which are rubbing his face in exasperation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks the question that they’ve both been asking each other almost daily for the last few months, a sign of both of their reluctance.

Noya pictures the way Yoshiro came bounding up to them, touching Asahi’s arm with his own with such ease, as if they’d known each other for their whole lives. Asahi wasn’t one to open up to just anyone—Yoshiro had to make him happy, then, right?

And it wasn’t fair for him, an engaged man, to be so upset about Asahi, a man with a boyfriend.

_ Boyfriend.  _ The word brings an acrid taste to his mouth.

“Noya?” Miyashita asks.

“Yes,” he says immediately, standing up. “Yes, I’m sure.”

* * *

“Nishinoya Yuu, do you take Miyashita Tsuji to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Miyashita Tsuki, do you take Nishinoya Yuu to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

* * *

Asahi is pouring sugar into his coffee when it hits him.

He is stirring the now cold liquid, staring at the spoon in his hand. He can feel the granules of sugar against the utensil. How long has he been sitting here? How long did it take him to pick up the spoon and stir this goddamn drink?

Why won’t this sugar dissolve?

Tears of frustration and a thousand other emotions he does not want to name slip down his cheeks. He wonders bitterly if they’d help in dissolving the particles.

_ Why won’t this goddamn sugar dissolve? _

* * *

“Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” He looks up, furrowing his eyebrows. “Yeah, what’s up?”

She leans over to pour herself her own mug from the pot as she bustles past, purse and work bag knocking together in her hurry. Noya finds himself irked by the noise for some reason.

“I just haven’t seen you put any sugar in your coffee,” she says, eyeing him warily as she chugs down her own mug.

“I like it black,” he shrugs.

“Really? Since when?”

* * *

Some day, he would find it in himself to call and tell Noya that he could give him so much more, that he’d never find anyone who loved him the way that he did, that he’d never find someone who knew how he liked his coffee and how he liked his kisses—framed against the sunrise and overlooking a meadow of flowers—and how there would never be someone who looked at Noya like he hung the stars—

He shoves the cold mug away; the liquid sloshes around, dancing around the lip of the mug.

He picks up the phone.

Practiced motions: enter his phone password, go to “Contacts,” scroll exactly three and a half strokes on the screen before stopping at “Nishinoya Yuu.”

* * *

The home phone rings, cutting off Noya’s reply. He didn’t know how to explain himself, anyways.

“I’ll get that, you go to work,” he says, pushing off from the counter, which he leans over.

* * *

Asahi’s hand stills.

His phone dings.

**YOSHIRO [8:10 AM]**

i can start making calls on the way to work! train is kindy noisy but i’m sure it’ll be fine

**ASAHI [8:11 AM]**

sounds good :)

**YOSHIRO [8:11 AM]**

ugh i’m just so exciteddddd

**ASAHI [8:12 AM]**

yeah, me too

have a good day at work <3

Asahi ignores Yoshiro’s reply to his message, putting the phone face down onto the dining table.

He promised himself that he would work up the pride to tell Noya all of those things and more.

But he had also promised that one day, he’d finally be over him.

* * *

“Hey, Noya speaking.” Why is his heart thrumming so loudly?

“Noya! Hey, it’s Yoshiro!” Oh.

“Oh, hi. Uh. Are you calling because of Asahi?” Noya asks automatically.

“Yeah, actually! We just wanted to tell you—”  _ We?  _ “—that we’re getting married!”

Noya doesn’t hear the phone as it hits the ground, far from its cradle.

* * *

_ Are you sure you want to delete contact NISHINOYA YUU? _

Yes.

_ Contact successfully deleted. _

**Author's Note:**

> fuck me for using so many line breaks this was a nightmare to post
> 
> n e wayz big thamk to alex, ava, and mayo for beta reading !!
> 
> komment + cudos are appreciated!!
> 
> tumblr: hairbleachwhore  
> twitter: glutenfreeroach  
> ko-fi: aloeverava


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